Love The Way You Lie
by Pachamama9
Summary: After the War, Zacharias Smith is not the same. He's manipulative and cruel, and his wife wants out. One-shot.


**A/N: This is a story about an OC married to Zacharias Smith. I just figured, not all of the good guys stayed good guys after the Second Wizarding War, so here's my take on it.**

 **If You Dare Challenge - #337 (Freedom)**

 **Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #653 (cigarette)**

 **Original Character Boot Camp - #10 (wrist)**

 **Fanfiction Writing Month: October [955]**

 **Disclaimer: Queen Rowling owns everything.**

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"Dear, I've asked you so many times..." His wife, Angie, was standing behind him now, drying off her hands on her apron. "Could you not...smoke? In the house, at least?" As soon as the words escaped her, she knew she shouldn't have said them. Zacharias was drunk, hungry, and smoking; all three made him that much closer to snapping.

"Shut up," Zacharias snapped, his eyes still trained on the television. Did she honestly think she could tell him what to do? "I'll smoke when I want. It's my house." He blew a curl of smoke at her. "Is my dinner done yet?"

There were two empty firewhiskey bottles beside him."Not yet, dear, I've just got to—"

"What time is it?"

"I—" She seemed to realize what he was referring to, and she started to back away. Her footsteps irked him, and he took another whiff of his cigarette. "It—it's 6:03, dear, but I—"

"What time is dinner supposed to be ready, Angelica?"

Her knees were shaking. She knew she was in trouble when he used her full name. "Six—six, dear, b-but I—"

"I don't need your buts, Angelica. What time is dinner supposed to be ready?" His voice was reaching a dangerous tone. She realized that he was not drunk enough to be slurring his words or falling over, but he was drunk enough to blame all of his problems on her.

"Six—six o'clock. B-but Zach, you have to—you have to understand, I-I—

"Come here," he said, ignoring her ptiful excuses. When she didn't move, wringing her hands and staring at the ground, he raised his voice. "Come here. Now."

Even the slightest change in vocal inflection was enough to strike fear in his wife; he loved that about her. She was so observant. "Yes?" She was in front of him now, but still too far for him to reach her without standing.

He didn't care that her voice was shaking. "Closer."

She took a step towards him so that her left leg was pressed against the ottoman where his legs were still oustretched. "Y-yes?"

"Sit down."

She closed her eyes for a second, opened them, and then sat on the ottoman, her entire body tense. She was visibly shaking; she was waiting for him to attack her. She knew he liked to take his time. "Yes—Zach?" Her white apron was wrinkled now; she had been twisting it in her hands the whole time, so now it was no longer smooth.

He waited two seconds, and then his body surged forward, his hand fastening around the collar of her dress and yanking her forwards so quickly that she had to grab his wrist for support. She was light; it was not difficult to knock her around. "You think you can just do whatever you want?"

She was already crying. Pathetic. "N-no-n-no, I-I—"

His hands shook her, and her neck snapped back with the action, causing a momentary pause in her sobs. "I told you to have dinner ready at six, didn't I?" When she didn't answer, too busy trying to remove his fingers and stop her tears, he forcefully pulled her towards him so that their faces were only inches apart. "Didn't I?"

"Y-y-yes—y-yes, I—I'm so-sorry, I di-did-didn't—"

"I don't want your pathetic excuses!" This time, he released her, and she tumbled to the ground, her arms braced against the carpet and her eyes swollen and red. "I told you what you had to do! You sit around here all day doing nothing! Nothing! All I ask is that you do one thing! One bloody thing!"

"I-I-I—"

"Would you just shut your mouth for two seconds and listen to me!"

She was crying harder than ever now (at least her mouth was shut), and Zacharias was disgusted. "This is my house, Angelica! My house! I do my part, you hear? I make money to give you what you need and this is how you repay me?"

"N-n-no, I—"

"I told you to shut up!" His wand was out now, and Angie cowered on the ground. "You don't get to talk unless I tell—" His wand spouted fiery sparks with a bang that sent her into another round of sobs. However, the sparks sprayed in the other direction, and then Zacharias was sprawled on the leathery couch, his own wand having backfired in his face.

Hope rose in Angie's chest. The charm she'd created disguising his wandShe hiccuped and struggled to her feet as Zacharias clutched at his bloody face. "You did this," he growled, his voice clouded by his lack of nose, which was now laying in various pieces on the ground. "You'll pay for this!" She was standing niow, backing away from the blood-splattered man. "Come back here!"

Then he was groping blindly for her with angry hands, barely able to see through all of the blood and pain, but Angie was already running, picking up her bag from where it lay beside the front door and flinging it open. She could barely hear her husband's rageful screams over the sound of her own freedom. Her brother was sitting in the driver's seat, anxiety written all over his face, gripping the wheel of the car with white-knuckled fingers. When he saw her coming, his entire face lit up and he shoved the passenger door open with wandless magic, nearly breaking it in the process. "Drive," she whispered, her courage taking her breath away.

Her husband had hurled the front door open, screaming obscenities and covered in blood, but Angie's brother's foot was on the gas pedal and they were already halfway down the block by the time he got down the first step.

She was free.

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